


A Day We Dream

by codegxg



Series: Exquisitely Damaged [6]
Category: American Horror Story: Hotel
Genre: F/M, Love, Murder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-02
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-14 19:22:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29796675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/codegxg/pseuds/codegxg
Summary: They laughed, still curled tightly around each other.They kissed against the worn, faded sheets, hands tight, lips pressed firmly against the others.
Relationships: Tristan Duffy/Liz Taylor (American Horror Story)
Series: Exquisitely Damaged [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1256915
Comments: 1
Kudos: 5





	A Day We Dream

**Author's Note:**

> Seriously rewatching AHS and just skipped to Hotel...can't help it lol

She leaned against the bed, watching the twitching of the clock, the spiraling of the dust that seemed to dance beneath the yellow light, covering the green and blue of the blankets and the furniture.   
Cancer.  
After years of blood, ghosts, murder and demon babies. It was cancer.  
She sighed, lighting another cigarette- more out of habit than desire, watching the ash crumble against the silver carpet - stain the thick, plush fibers.  
Wine didn't have a taste anymore but she craved a good red, a Bordeaux or Burgundy, wanted the slight prick of something warm and red. The coolness of a slim wine glass stem between her fingers.   
She imagined teetering on the edge of a barstool, the silk of a dress soft between her thighs, a glass balanced precariously between her fingers, head thrown back in laughter.  
She saw him there.   
The lithe movement of his head, how he walked with that cocky bit of grace that made her head spin. The green of his eyes, the warmth of his hands.   
She shivered at the thought - her hands shaking at a mere fantasy.  
More overwhelming then the lust was the pure ache of missing him.   
She wondered where he was, what he was doing. If he was even there anymore.   
Biting back the thought she ran her fingers across the soft, downy comforter and curled against her pillow, eyes still watching the dust as it moved through the air - like a million tiny dancers.   
She was unsure when life had turned to dream, and it had to be. Because he was there, arms around her. A crooked smile on his face.  
"Love?" He whispered, kissing her forehead, her cheek, her chin.   
She smiled, relaxed for a moment in his arms.   
"Darling," she murmured back, leaning into his arm, his kiss, "Oh, how I've missed you."  
He chuckled - the sound warm and throaty - sending shivers down her spine.   
"You've been busy," he mused, pushing the scarf away from her chest, kissing the sharp black square of her eyeliner.   
"My son," Liz whispered, running her thumb over the gold locket that held two crumpled pictures of his greatest loves.   
"Really though Liz, he sighed, Philomena, she's going to be bullied for years!"  
"Philomena is an exotic name, Liz protested, she'll be like a queen among peasants. As opposed to something unoriginal like Makayleigh or Kimberlin."  
They laughed, still curled tightly around each other.  
They kissed against the worn, faded sheets, hands tight, lips pressed firmly against the others.  
"Cancer," Tristan whispered, running his fingers across her jawline.   
She caught his finger as it crossed her breastbone, even terrified his mind wandered to sex, and brought it to her lips.  
"Weeks they say," she whispered, stroking his hand, his wrist, his arm.   
He shivered and kissed her again, pulling Liz even tighter against his chest.  
The silence stretched on for a moment, the light seemingly warmer, the air cooler, the silence quieter.  
And then she woke up.


End file.
